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twenty’ , he relented and brought me to my first screaming orgasm.
    As I recovered, I felt his strong hands turn me over to face him. I looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Sir,” I said softly.
    He smiled and kissed my lips. “We are just getting started,” he said. He lifted me off his lap and set me down on the bed on my side, so that my tied hands wouldn’t make lying down awkward. I watched with eager eyes as he took off his clothes. “Open,” he ordered, and thrust his dick in my mouth.
    My eyes widened in surprised pleasure as I sucked his hard shaft. This wasn’t something he allowed very often and it felt like a treat. But if the act of blowing him off was supposed to take my mind of my own desire, it didn’t work. As I heard his throaty groans and saw each and every expression flit across his face, my own arousal spiralled alarmingly high. I told myself I couldn’t come from just sucking him off, but my body was so, so close to making a liar out of me.
    His hands curled in my hair as he pumped in and out of my mouth. I heard myself make slurping, gagging sounds as I felt him go deeper and push into my throat. I should have been terrified.
    Instead, some part of me was exultant. Alexander never lost control, but he was painfully close to losing it now, and I was the person who had taken him to the very edge. In that moment, it was impossible to feel anything other than purely sexual.
    He pulled out before he came and I whimpered, feeling an acute sense of loss. “Not yet,” he said, with a wry twist of his lips. “I’m not quite done with your punishment.”
    Don’t punish me, just take me, I wanted to scream out. Instead, I stayed silent as he helped me off the bed and onto my knees, his hands steadying me as I struggled for balance. Once I was in position, I looked up at him, waiting for him to tell me what to do.
    This was what I’d never experienced with Dylan. The peacefulness of my surrender, the utter relaxation that came knowing that I’d given him my trust and my control. The security of knowing that I was following my instincts and everything told me that Alexander wouldn’t hurt me.
    Not unless I begged for it and even then, it would all stop if I used my safe word.  
    He walked away for a moment and I could hear him rummaging through the dresser for some toys. He’d openly invited me to explore the playroom any time I wanted. “Look through everything,” he’d said, earlier this week. “If there’s something you want to try, let me know.”
    I hadn’t taken advantage of his offer. Now, as I waited on my knees, with anticipation and heavy desire running through my veins, I wished I had. He would help me learn. His eyes were always warm, a smile never far from his lips. Exactly the way he’d been in Paris two years ago, on a summer night in Saint Denis.
    When he returned, he carried a flogger and a medium-sized stainless steel butt plug in his hands. “Relax,” he chided with a smile. “I do have lube. Your eyes became as round as saucers.”  
    I smothered my own answering smile. “Sorry, Sir,” I said meekly.
    “Mmm.” He made a noise of approval as he walked around me. I was kneeling on the floor, my breasts hanging out of my bra, my swollen pussy lips bisected by the crotch of the panties I was, against all odds, still wearing. “This is a very nice sight,” he mused.
    My lips fell open as his cock nudged at my face. My tongue reached out to lap at his fat head and he shook his head. “No, no. Wait for permission.”
    Then give me permission, damn it, I fought from crying out. My burning need was back, the relief from my orgasm only temporary. I wanted his cock in my throat again. I wanted to feel a certain helplessness when he held my hair in his hands and pummelled my mouth with his dick. A powerlessness that was only illusory, because as soon as I wanted him to stop, he would.
    The words I was waiting for didn’t come. “Bend over the bed,” he said instead.